Spies
by Jaxson The Great
Summary: A songfic based on Spies by Coldplay. What if you could run free? What if a little sacrifice was all you needed? Would you give up everything you knew for a better life?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

* * *

_I awake to see no one is free_

_I said, "How do you live as a fugitive?_

_Down here where I cannot see so clear."_

_I said, "What do I know?_

_Show me the right way to go."_

* * *

Scout stood alone, facing the misty grey water as he watched the sun sink lower and lower. He wanted to go home.

The others were bloodthirsty killers, taking pride in the thousands of lives that had been lost at their hands. Scout didn't fit in with them. He knew it wasn't _really _killing, thanks to the Respawn technology, but he shuddered just thinking of the nights he had woken up, panicking, still half-asleep and convinced a dead man's corpse was draped across his body, instead of a blanket.

He picked up a rock from the sandy shore lining the water. It was pale as the moon and very smooth and flat. He skipped it six times across the still, glassy surface of the water, waiting until every ripple had died away before moving again.

He missed his old bedroom, where he could curl up in the closet to be alone, when his brothers got to be too much. he missed the smell of blueberries and coffee that the tiny kitchen always held, and he missed the green of the grass and the blue of the sky and the feeling that nothing could ever change, and that he'd be five forever. This place had no grass, the only blue he ever saw was a flash before his eyes right before an enemy killed him, and everything was always changing, all the time.

He missed home. He wanted to be there, instead of this wretched place, and most of all, he wanted his mother. He wanted to run away from it all.

But that was impossible. The others wouldn't let him. They talked big man talk about being there for your team, about killing babies like him for abandoning the call of duty, and about becoming a man. He didn't want to become a man. he wanted to be five again.

He skipped another rock just as the top edge of the sun slid beneath the water on the distant horizon. He counted seven skips, and waited for the ripples to die down again.

They didn't.

As he watched, a long, thin, black thing, like a stick with a tapered edge forming a point at the top, slid up and out of the water, breaking the glassy surface up into a hundred shards. A second followed it. Then, with Vs trailing behind, the two black things began moving slowly towards the shore. Towards him.

Scout stumbled back, wary of the black things, but still curious. He watched as two more slid above the surface, and suddenly all four of them started twisting around, as though made of rubber. the points curled and uncurled, making tight spirals, and when they turned so the flat edge hit the fading light, Scout could see that they were covered with hundreds of small circles.

They continued to slide closer and closer, until, still submerged, they were barely a foot away from his sneaker toes. He stared down at them, their writhing, twisting dance, becoming mesmerized with the movements. Up close, it was clear that they were, in fact, tentacles, covered in tiny suckers.

It was then that they attacked.

Twisting tight, they lunged forward and wrapped themselves wetly around his ankles. Their suckers stuck like Stickies to the fabric of his shoes and socks and, as they wound higher and higher up his legs, his skin. They seemed to be coated in a clear, viscous substance that smelled like a beached whale's corpse.

He watched in horror as the slimy tentacles slithered up and up, past his knees and on, curling around his thighs. Every so often a sucker would get stuck, and would pull itself roughly from his body, making a wet little _shhh-lup_ sound as it did.

The cold black things met his hips, and continued on their journey, winding like snakes around his torso, squeezing his lungs. It was too late to run. it was too late to scream. All he could do was watch, helpless, as two more tentacles sprang from the water, clinging tightly to his wrists and forearms. They dripped icy water and the clear gel into the cup of his palms, dripping off his fingertips and drenching his class-specific shirt.

Then, all at once, the movement stopped. The black, inky things ceased their movements, just as the tips had begun reaching toward his face, to wrap strongly around his throat and snap his neck, he was sure. There was no sound, save for the gentle lap of the water against the rocky shore and his terrified, ragged breathing, coming in gasping gulps.

Then they pulled.

All at once, he was yanked right off his feet and into the water. The icy cold of it shocked him, and he gasped in pain as his head collided with a jagged rock. The river water was cloudy with bits of this and that, as well as the red fog of blood, and as his lungs filled with water and his eyes slid closed, Scout thought he saw a bright light shining somewhere close.

.

.

.

When Scout came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was cold in the worst, bone-deep kind of way. His face ached, his head hurt, and his arms and legs felt as though every inch were bruised. Something was digging into his back, and his mouth was full of sour bile-

He rolled onto his side just in time to puke up an alarming amount of what felt like metal bits and pieces of ice. Only when his stomach was completely empty did he dare open his eyes, taking in what sight there was to see, though there was not much. He seemed to be in a very dark place with walls and a floor of rock with sharp bits poking out everywhere. Painfully, he drew himself up into a sitting position on the hard, wet rock he had been lying on, hugging his knees to his chest for protection as well as warmth as his eyes darted everywhere in the dark, looking for a way out, a friendly face, a blanket... _anything._

Instead, he heard a smack, echoing eerily around the chamber. The sound rebounded off the walls and ceiling and floor, and he could not discern its origin. It came again, louder, closer, and again, this time with a solid thump and a dragging, scraping sound.

As the sounds crept ever closer, Scout let out a terrified squeak as he shrank against the wall. There was no way out, no light to see by, and he was about to die. Maybe it was for the best, he thought, in an attempt to comfort himself as he buried his face in his hands. At least now he would never have to kill another man again.

All at once, the sounds stopped, and Scout remembered the way the tentacles had stopped, like some strange deja vu. He waited for something terrible to happen, like it had with the tentacles, but instead all that changed was a steady dripping sound was now filling the chamber.

Slowly, Scout peeked out, spreading his fingers like a fan, and what he saw made him gasp, a sound that was magnified many times by the echoing walls.

There, standing before him, was a tall, dark figure. Darker, even, than the shadowy cave. Its silhouette stood out starkly against the grey rocks, and Scout's eyes took in all of it, from the sharp lines of the face to the strong, line of the shoulders to the forest of writhing, twisting, curling tentacles that were the legs. From the face, two bright, catlike eyes stared at him, yellow and faintly glowing. He shivered involuntarily as the diamond pupils traveled over his thin frame. He'd heard stories of creatures like these. Half-human, half-octopus hybrids, known as Cecaelia. He's heard stories. They all had. But until now, that's all he believed them to be: stories.

"Hss..." The Cilophyte groaned eerily in a voice that was as cold and mysterious as the cavern itself, as Scout shivered before it. "You aren't much, are you?"

Scout said nothing. He felt if he did, he may faint. Instead he closed his fingers over his eyes again and bit his tongue, a nervous habit. The Cilophyte moved, accompanied by a terrible slippery, sliding sound, like snakes in wet grass. Soon Scout could hear the Cilophyte's breathing very clearly, and knew it was standing right in front of him.

A tentacle snaked out and wound around his wrists, forcing his hands away from his face. He squealed at an embarrassingly high pitch and tried to wriggle away, but the Cilophyte was stronger than Scout would ever be. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as another of the slimy things wound around his waist and lifted him easily, and his legs were forcibly straightened out.

"Tssk, tssk... Sso thin. One good gusst of wind and you'd blow away, wouldn't you? And hardly a mouthful. I don't ssupposse you have any friendss?"

Scout tried not to, but he couldn't help staring into those yellow eyes. It was as though he'd seen them before, somewhere, but he was a Heavy if he knew where. Probably some nightmare or something. He had those a lot. Increasingly, since taking the job at Reliable Excavation Demolition.

The Cilophyte sighed and dropped Scout like a doll, sending him sprawling to the puddles on the rocks below. Ignoring the bloody scrapes now welling up along his arms from the sharp rocks, Scout Pushed himself to his feet as the Cilophyte turned and began moving away.

"So..." His voice faltered, and he cringed as it broke. Bravely, he tried again. "So, you're not going to eat me?"

The Cilophyte turned its head, as though listening, but did not stop moving. "No," it sighed, sounding defeated. "You're much too ssmall."

"Th-then can I go?"

The Cilophyte stopped, and a low chuckle emanated from it. "Oh, no," it said. "I'm not _that_ hungry... yet. But in a week or two I'm ssure I'll be dessperate enough to make a nice meal of you."

Scout froze, his eyes widening in horror. "Bu... But you have to let me go! I have to go home..."

"Oh, you 'have to', do you? Well, I have to eat. I'm ssure your preciouss mother will get on without you. You can't have been too terribly usseful around the housse anyway, sskinny as you are."

Scout fell to his knees in defeat. This was worse than any Humiliation kill. He was trapped... and done for! Nobody would even know he was gone. They'd all be too busy killing the BLU team to notice stupid little "Useless Ulysses" had failed to show up for battle. If they ever did notice, they wouldn't be worried. They'd just laugh at him, and complain about how he never was any credit to the team, anyway.

"There iss one way I would be willing to releasse you, however..."

Scout jumped and looked for the Cilophyte, but couldn't make out its shape. "Wh... a condition?" he called into the shadows.

"Yess..." The voice hissed somewhere close. "If you can ssupply me with ssomething of a little more... ssubstance... then I would be more than happy to let you run free, little bunny."

Scout slumped. Where was he supposed to find someone he could care less if they got eaten? He cared about everyone he knew. Well, maybe except Sniper. He was kind of a jerk. And Engineer always ignored him. Heavy made fun, And Soldier never trusted him...

"I know where I can find you some... uh... food," He called out. By now the Cilophyte was nowhere to be seen, but Scout figured it could still hear him. "My team. They're all a lot bigger than me, and they're all total jerk-offs anyway-"

"Really, now?" The Cilophyte said from right next to him, causing him to jump violently, startled. "RED team, I pressume? You would give up your own team to ssave your own sskin? How... cavalier."

Scout scooted away slightly, disliking the Cilophyte's shadowy face so close to his own. "Y-yeah. There's another battle here in a few days... If I can lure them close, you can grab them and... do whatever you want."

The Cilophyte smiled, and Scout found himself face-to-face with six rows of sharp, serrated teeth, pointy and white. "You've got yoursself a deal, little bunny."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

* * *

_And the Spies came out of the water._

_But you're feeling so bad, 'cause you know._

_But the Spies hide out in every corner._

_But you can't touch them, no,_

_'Cause they're all Spies_

_They're all Spies._

* * *

Later that night, arms bandaged and clothes dry, Scout peered around at his team as they sat in a wide semicircle around a large, wheeled chalkboard. Soldier was at the front, armed with a long stick and a box of chalk as he told everyone what they were doing wrong as far as strategy. He insisted they go over battle plans three times a day. Scout just wished he believed in showering as often.

"Now, Engie, you were particularily sloppy when the enemy Spy flanked us. That was our downfall. We need you to be at the top of every overpass in order to keep an eye on their movements. And you, Demoman. We need you to Sticky every entrance to every underpass. No BLU would be brave enough to go over that old bridge in the west quarter, so we need to make sure everyone is in a good position to get to it in case of Ubercharge. In the event the enemy sees through our ploy and tries manuvering around the barricades at point A and D, we need to have backup at point G. That's you, Sniper. And we'll put Pyro behind you, to cover your back..."

Scout sighed and tuned the endless tirade out. The man had _only_ been going on about the stupid BLUs for a half-hour. He would be glad when he was finally rid of them all.

He would... wouldn't he? Scout peered about at his fellow REDs and thought about his deal with the Cilophyte. Was he really willing to sacrifice them all just so he could go home?

He watched Sniper whisper something to Medic while pointing at Spy, and the two of them giggled quietly. Engineer scribbled something that looked like notes on whatever Soldier was saying but was probably just drawings, and beside him, Pyro flicked his silver lighter on and off, close to Scout's face, as though threatening to burn him.

They weren't _that_ bad, really, Scout thought, watching the flame, it's glowing yellow light. Would the Cilophyte be able to catch him if he backed out of the deal? Or would it be able to get to the base, even with its slimy legs? Could it even walk on dry land? Could it walk at all? What if he managed to catch a lot of fish? Would it accept that, instead?

Scout was so lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice when Pyro touched the tiny flame to the edge of his hair, spilling out from beneath his hat.

He jerked back, but it was too late. His dirty blond hair caught quickly, and hardly even burned before curling into itself in a twist of black. There was thick, sour-smelling smoke, and the heat burned his skin. Instead of leaping to his aid as Pyro laughed gleefully and snapped the flame away, the rest of RED team, even the Medic, backed away, coughing with wrinkled noses at the smell. Scout had to waft the smoke away himself with his partially burnt hat.

No, he decided as the room emptied of people and filled with smoke. He didn't mind in the least if he never saw any of their stupid faces again.

.

.

.

Scout lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling above him. He was unable to sleep due to the mild burns decorating his cheek. Fucking Pyro.

In his mind, he thought about his home, the checkered kitchen floor and pastel appliances, the orange carpeting and pea-green walls in the living room, the hallway lined with picture after picture of him and his brothers, and the tree out back with the tire swing and treehouse. He remembered the time Sammy had dropped a spider on his head when he tried to climb up himself, and when Nathan and Michael had pushed him in the dirt when he has asked to play. They all liked to pick on him, because he was the youngest.

Why couldn't he ever stand up for himself? He asked himself that question almost every day. He guessed that was the true reason behind taking the job for Reliable Excavation Demolition, instead of the story about earning his own way in life that he'd fed his mother. He just wanted to become something other than a wimpy little pushover.

Clearly, it hadn't worked out the way he had hoped.

But feeding his team to a hungry Cilophyte was a step in the right direction, wasn't it? Wouldn't he finally be standing up or himself if he were doing it in order to get what he wanted?

...Would they welcome him back home?

Ony in the coldest, quietest, darkest black of night could Scout admit to himself that what he feared the most was that they wouldn't want him home. Would they send him back? Would they throw him out? Would he have been better off just letting that Cilophyte eat him?

Frustrated at the ratio of questions to answers, Scout sighed and kicked the blankets away, then got up. he could hardly sleep anyway, what with the loud snores, snorts and snuffles emenating from Soldier's class room, next door.

He went to the window. From his class room, he could see all the way to the beach where he'd been abducted by the Cilophyte. Staring out, he saw that the surface of the water was hidden by a deep fog, lying over the silvery sea like a thick mask.

Could the Cecaelia breathe air? If not, could they breathe it if it had enough moisture, like fog? Scout leaned his forehead against the glass as he stared across the horizon, wondering. Maybe they were like mermaids, and grew legs on dry land?

...But that was silly, he thought, shaking his head in wonder at his stupidity. Mermaids didn't _exist_.

But neither did Cecalia.

It struck Scout that maybe, just maybe, he'd made the whole thing up. it was possible that he'd fallen asleep while out on the beach, dreamed up the Cilophyte, and, upon waking up cold, wet and bleeding on the beach, had jumped to the conclusion that the tentacled thing had let him go, when really he'd just gotten caught in the tide. That was much more likely.

Just when Scout was turning to go back to bed, very much relieved, he caught sight of something.

A dark figure was on the beach.

Half submerged in the water, it's hair, curly, like the roman statues, shone in the silver moonlight. its fingers, longer than average and pointy, hung at its waist, just touching the water's surface.

The two yellow pinpricks that were its eyes were staring straight at the RED base.


End file.
